Kapelis- The Hatmaker

by Andreas Kappa

  Kapelis had to pass the square twice a day to travel to and from his hat shop. Kapelis would see Ourania watching her husband fade away. Achilleas was a strong man, so his death was prolonged. Kapelis would weep uncontrollably and hang his head in remorse as he passed by his friend.

  On the third day after being placed on the cross, Achilleas passed away in the morning. He was removed by soldiers, and his remains were tossed on to the pavement.

  Ourania waited patiently for this to occur. She kissed his chest and forehead and wrapped his body in a woven rug to prepare her husband’s body for burial. Kapelis visited Ourania and paid his respects to the new widow.

  Achilleas was buried, dirt was thrown in the open grave before his grave was covered, and the gathering of friends proceeded to the house of the late Achilleas for his wake.

  At the funeral, Kapelis was pulled to one side by a courier. Kapelis imparted the information he had provided to Achilleas to be passed on to the resistance.

  The widow did not weep or cry during the funeral or at all. She was very quiet as the people left the wake.

  Kapelis was last to leave with his wife.

  He said, ‘Ourania, with all my heart and soul, I wish it was me in that grave.’

  Ourania replied, ‘Dearest Kapelis, you were his best friend. Do not be sad. We have no children. Like his ancient namesake, Achilles, the hero of Troy, my Achilleas also died a hero.’

  Kapelis wept.

  He was comforted by Ourania, who left him with these words: ‘Kapelis, had you died, you would have left a widow and an infant child. We have no children to mourn their father’s early death.’

  Within a month, Ourania silently left her home and entered a nunnery in the mountains of Pylos, where she spent all her days living in religious silence and prayer.

  Kapelis thought about his role as a spy after Achilleas’s death. What would Achilleas expect from him from the cold grave? Kapelis knew the answer. He would continue to gather and then pass on information to the resistance. As Kapelis aged, he continued to make hats and supply information to the resistance.

  Kapelis had five children. The firstborn was a son, and he had four daughters that followed. The tradition in Greece was that the father of the bride who was getting married had to provide a dowry to the groom and his family. With four daughters, Kapelis could foresee that there would be little left of the wealth he had accumulated if all four girls married.

  Kostas Kapelis named his firstborn son after his father, Andreas. This was another tradition in Greek families. Andreas Kapelis was an intelligent young man with the bluest of eyes like the sea of Corinth.

  Kostas Kapelis ensured that his son finished at least four grades of high school and he was taught Turkish. Kostas also ensured that Andreas became his apprentice and learnt the skill, art, and trade of a milliner.

  Andreas was the next-generation of hat-maker in the Kapelis family. Kostas said nothing to his son of his role as a spy for Greece. As Kostas aged, Andreas assumed a greater role as a hat-maker to the ruling-class of Athens. He had been taught the history of Greece at school and resented the fact that the ruling class consisted of Ottomans.

  It was 1809, and Andreas was a twenty-nine-year-old man. The Turkish occupation was still in place.

  Andreas had heard that Greeks in Russia were gathering to form a society to overthrow the Ottomans. Kapelis urged his son to focus on the business of making hats and leave the resistance to overthrow the occupiers to others. Andreas continued to make hats for the next five years until he was thirty-four.

  Andreas did not marry during this five-year period. Two of Kapelis’s daughters married, and Kapelis was blessed with four grandchildren.

  As Andreas matured, his emotions intensified, and his focus was directed to assisting in some way the expulsion of the Turks.

  His Hellenic spirit urged him to go to Russia.

  _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

  ODESSA, 1814

  In late September 1814, at the age of thirty-four, Andreas came home and said to Kapelis, ‘I have been granted papers to travel to Russia on the pretence that I need to learn more about my skill as a hat-maker in St Petersburg.’

  Kapelis said, ‘Where are you really going, my son?’

  ‘I am travelling to Odessa to join patriots who are forming the Filiki Eteria [the Friendly Society]. This is a secret organisation of diaspora Hellenes with the sole purpose of overthrowing the Ottoman rule in Greece and establishing an independent Greek state.’

  ‘I understand. I was waiting for this day to come. I cannot stop you, but I pray that this organisation and you can shift the mountain that has cast a shadow over Hellas for over 400 years.’

  ‘Father, I will give my life for our country, and I promise that I will, in some way, keep you informed of my well-being and the progress of what I intend to do.’

  The only safe passage to Odessa for Andreas was to travel to the port of Patras in north-western Peloponnese. He then had to take a merchant ship around the Peloponnese, through the Dardanelles, and into the Black Sea, heading for the Black Sea port of Odessa.

  The journey in winter was long and in rough seas and would take about three weeks with port stops.

  Andreas prepared for his trip and packed his bags. Kapelis gave his son 100 gold sovereigns to pay for his passage and see him through for a year of absence from his home.

  Kapelis also gave Andreas a red cap made by him and said to him, ‘Please promise to wear it at all times to keep your head warm in Russia.’

  The journey was indeed rough. The seas were merciless. The weather was cold. As the ship approached Odessa in the Black Sea, the weather was even colder than Greece.

  Andreas remained in the cabin of the ship, below the decks, sharing the cabin with ten other men and a mule named Freedom.

  During the voyage, the men below would pass their time gambling, drinking to oblivion, and fighting amongst themselves.

  Andreas was keen to read and kept to himself at the ridicule of the other men. He was regarded as ‘too soft’ for the men in the cabin.

  In one exchange with an older man named Pavlos, a former soldier and the tough leader of the men, Andreas said to him, ‘Education is a possession that no one can take away.’

  Pavlos could not respond to this wisdom and told the men to leave Andreas alone. After the first two weeks of the voyage, he was left to himself.

  The greatest threat on board the ship was contracting the disease scurvy.

  Kapelis had told his son that there was a winery near Patras that made liquor known as dendura, which was used by sailors and had the effect of fighting off scurvy. Andreas followed his father’s advice and bought ten litres of dendura in half-litre bottles before he boarded the ship.

  Andreas drank a small glass of dendura in the morning and another glass at night during the voyage. The liquor prevented Andreas from contracting scurvy, whilst others less fortunate were left quite ill or died from scurvy during the voyage. Those who died from any disease aboard the ship were thrown overboard to prevent any further contagion.

  It was mid November 1814 when the ship arrived in the port of Odessa.

  Andreas looked over the stern of the vessel in the early morning, and he saw the sea lit up by the cold winter sun and was left marvelling at the Black Sea, which stretched for miles. Indeed, it did appear black to him.

  The large Vorontsov Lighthouse had carefully guided the ship into port. The delay in arriving in Odessa was a result of several detours taken by the ship’s captain to avoid pirates and sea battles. Other delays were due to the harsh weather and the Ottomans searching the ship for contraband or passengers without travel documents in Constantinople.

  Like the other passengers, Andreas was happy he had made the journey in one piece and pleased he had arrived at his ultimate destination. He was excited to experience the unexpected and wa
s looking forward to his new journey.

  Odessa was a beautiful port city. Andreas climbed the stairs to the boardwalk, and he saw the architecture of the Odessa Opera House and Ballet Theatre. Running parallel to the water was the grand Primorsky Boulevard, lined with trees, mansions, and monuments.

  Andreas marvelled at how majestically he was welcomed by the city. The people were also friendly and welcoming to Greeks.

  Andreas could not speak Russian. It was surprising to him how several people spoke a crude form of Greek, and he could converse with them in basic terms. He also heard some Turkish being spoken.

  The legacy of the Ottoman Empire was obvious in parts of Odessa. The Ottomans had been defeated by the Russians in 1792, and the wounds were still fresh in the atmosphere of Odessa and with the people of that city. It was also a strategic warm-water port for the Russian empire.

  Rather than ask about the Filiki Eteria, Andreas cleverly asked several people if they knew if there was a coffee lounge or tavern where the Greeks congregated. He was approached by an older man with a moustache, who asked him in a basic form of Greek what interest Andreas had to locate the Greeks.

  Andreas simply told him that he was a little homesick, having travelled from Greece to Odessa, and wanted some companionship with his countrymen and eat some Greek food. The old man took him past a square to a connecting street and stopped in front of a two-storey building.

  Andreas observed the building very carefully. It was painted a washed dark orangey-red colour with three large white columns carrying the front of the building.

  The doors were dark wooden doors and the veranda on the first floor was made of the same wood as the doors with several smaller columns. A Greek flag was affixed and furling proudly on the first-floor veranda, obviously permitted by the Odessans.

  The old man told Andreas to knock on the door and he would find his countrymen in the house.

  Andreas stopped a moment to gather his thoughts. He asked himself how he would enter, what he would say, what would be his introduction, and what he could offer the society.

  His racing thoughts were interrupted when a man came out of the front door and said to him in Russian, ‘Are you here to deliver supplies?’

  Andreas did not understand what he had said. His face was blank.

  The man, aware of Andreas’s failure to respond to his request, said in Greek, ‘Are you Greek, young man?’

  Andreas, with obvious relief and joy on his face, responded, ‘I most certainly am.’

  The man said, ‘Well, you are in the right place. This is where the revolution to free our homeland will begin, and this is where it will continue.’

  He went on further to say, ‘Welcome to our home. I am Emmanuel Xanthos, and my origins are from Patmos. Where are your Greek roots from?’

  The question to ask the roots of a Greek was a usual introductory question in Greek tradition.

  Andreas said, ‘I am Andreas Kapelis. We live in Athens. We are a family of hat-makers, but my roots are from the village of Vrostena in the mountains of Helmos in the Peloponnese.’

  Xanthos said, ‘A hat-maker. I see. Well, we all need hats, and you can put your skill to work here, as we need all the money we can get to assist the cause. Well, don’t just stand there. It is cold. When did you arrive?’

  ‘I arrived a few hours ago, from Patras. It was a long journey.’

  ‘Indeed. Come inside with your bags. There is accommodation and food inside for you. Rest, and I will introduce you to the other members of our society. You can stay as long as you like and take time to understand what we intend to do.’

  Andreas said, ‘Thank you very much. That is very kind of you. I will.’

  Xanthos was a man of light frame with brown hair and a thin pointy brown moustache. He pointed often with his fingers when he spoke. He was sharp in his wit and intelligence.

  Andreas entered the door of the house then an entrance with a staircase leading upstairs, embracing him. The room was filled with a sense of hope and power. Andreas immediately felt much at home. There was also the smell of home-cooking that was familiar.

  Andreas was escorted to a small but comfortable room by a chambermaid. Andreas covered himself with a handmade blanket made of thick wool. He could hear muted talking in the background. He fell almost immediately into a deep and restful sleep without eating.

  The next morning was bleak with cold, icy rain beating against the room’s window pane. He went downstairs and found Xanthos waiting for him at the wooden bench near a warm wood-fired stove heating the room.

  Two other men were drinking Turkish coffee in small cups and dipping dry sesame biscuits into the coffee, sitting at the bench.

  Xanthos immediately introduced him as Andreas Kapelis the hat-maker from the Peloponnese.

  Nickolas Skoufas introduced himself, and the other man said he was Athanasios Tsakalov, a Russian derivation of the Greek name Tsakalos, meaning ‘the jackal’.

  Skoufas was a grey-haired man, greying before his time with a handlebar moustache, thick eyebrows, and hair parted to the left. His roots were from Arta.

  The men sat down to talk. Andreas observed each man’s face to familiarise himself with his new future and noticed their gesticulations and hand and body movements. Likewise, the men were observing Andreas very carefully.

  Andreas was given a Turkish coffee and a biscuit.

  Skoufas took the lead in the questioning. ‘Why did you come here?’

  Andreas: ‘To help the cause in any way I can.’

  ‘Are you a patriot?’

  ‘With all my beating heart and Hellenic soul.’

  Tsakalov: ‘Are you the son of Kostas Kapelis, the hat-maker of Athens?’

  Tsakalov was a man with thick brown hair parted to the left and long sideburns, which made him look like he was from the ruling class. His roots were from Ioannina.

  Andreas was astonished and dumfounded by the question and that the men knew of his father. He did not know what to say and was cautious to respond but preferred to answer truthfully.

  Andreas: ‘Yes, I am. Is there a problem?’

  Xanthos: ‘My beloved brother and patriot, there is no problem. Your father is a hero and a great man.’

  Andreas was shocked by the response. ‘What, as a hat-maker in Athens?’ he exclaimed.

  All three men looked at one another, focused on Andreas, and laughed so loudly that the walls of the house were shaking.

  Skoufas took the lead for the necessary reply. ‘For over twenty years, Kostas Kapelis, your wonderful father, has been a spy, gathering information and facts. He would then impart that intelligence to both the klephts and the Russian forces. His intelligence has been vital in foreseeing the future movements and strategies of the Ottoman forces. The very city we are in, Odessa, had intelligence from your father that freed this city from the Ottomans in the war against the Turks in 1792.’

  Andreas was left paralysed. His father never told him. His father was a spy. Did his mother know? In his view, he doubted his mother knew anything. How did he gather that vital knowledge and pass it on to the relevant Greek forces? Andreas stared into the eyes of all the three men like a deer looks at the moonlight.

  There was pure innocence in his reaction as to what he had been told, and the men knew it.

  Xanthos then came clean. He giggled before he addressed Andreas. ‘My dear Andreas, we had been notified of your arrival in advance. We knew the ship you were travelling on. We had a brief description of your height and hair colour and your blue eyes like your father’s and the red cap made by your father before you left.

  ‘We were all aware you were coming and decided to have a little bit of fun at the expense of our young patriot. We were told the ship was to arrive in the afternoon, but it arrived in the morning, and you arrived at our doorstep early. Could you please give me your cap so I can s
ee the workmanship of your father, the hat-maker?’

  As requested, Andreas gave the red cap to Xanthos, who immediately took a knife and ripped it open from the top of the cap. In the cap were two letters carefully placed in the seams of the brim.

  Andreas did not know that the cap contained the letters. One letter was addressed directly to Skoufas from Kapelis.

  Kapelis and the father of Skoufas had dealings and had become friends during Skoufas senior’s time in Athens. The father of Skoufas had left Greece for Russia.

  The letter by Kapelis introduced his son, provided an outline of his family, and came with a father’s plea that the Filiki Eteria keeps his son safe from any harm. The letter also made it clear that his son carried with him 100 gold sovereigns and he was not a freeloader.

  Skoufas read the letter out loud, and the response from all the men was that Andreas was now part of their family. The money his father gave him should be kept in a safe place, as it was not needed by the society.

  The second letter was addressed to the men as patriots. The letter disclosed intelligence from Kapelis as to the Ottomans’ troop movement in northern Greece, pressure points of resistance, crude maps of the strongholds in central Greece, and fleet movement of Ottoman naval ships. Most important was the fact that the Ottomans were facing constant battles and defeats by the klephts in the Peloponnese, weakening their power base.

  The information was invaluable. The three men thanked Kapelis in his absence and said, ‘May he always have good health.’

  Andreas sat in their company in disbelief that his father had used him as a courier and that his father was a genuine spy for his country. The young man’s eyes welled up for the pride he had for his father. The humble hat-maker was a national asset for the resurrection of democracy in Greece.